Call of the Raven Page 5

  Was he mistaken?

  Was she feeling sorry for him?

  Clearing her throat once more, as though encouraging herself to speak, she proceeded. “You not only were marked at birth as a Keeper Asher, you were marked as a spirit twin. Don’t you realize you’re marked for greatness?”

  “No, I feel that I was marked to die.”

  “Asher, a young death is part of the Raven’s curse. You can’t change it nor can you stop from falling in love. Eventually, you will have no choice and your fate will be fulfilled. To ignore the plans that were put in motion long before your birth is to accept madness.”

  “Then I’m in luck since some say I’m already there.”

  Standing up, Linn looked down at him. “Rise up Asher and accept your purpose. Only then will you make your life mean something.”

  Asher instantly looked away in the direction of the fire, stubbornly refusing to allow her to see just how great her words affected him. “When Ari gets home I will look at the information he has acquired in regard to this rebellion, and then I will handle it accordingly.”

  “Your brother has been your go between long enough Asher, it’s time you give notice to the grave circumstances that surround you. You are in the presence of an uprising, and you don’t even know its magnitude.”

  Asher felt it again, that anger that just seemed to join with his nature, his very essence. Using the rings in his eyes to express his rage, he altered them a hot fiery red until he could see the glowing reflection in the silver butter dish before him.

  Lifting his gaze slowly, he met Linn’s gaze. Jaw dropping, clearly shaken, she slowly sat back down, and not once did her eyes leave his face.

  “Then I say,” he stated evenly, “let it rise.”

  Before Linn could utter one word of response, footsteps sounded hard on the tiled hall. Linn twisted to look and Asher noticed her tight frightened mouth change into an approving, yet awkward smile. Kennedy, her pet student, approached.

  “Yes child?” she asked.

  “Asher wanted me to let him know when Nixon got home. He’s in his room now.”

  “Very well then, I guess this meeting is adjourned.” Asher mockingly winked at Linn. “Madam, as always, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Chapter Four

  Unwanted Seed

  Leaving his shoes by the back door, Nixon snuck through the house in just his socks, paying special attention not to bump into anything, or give his presence away. They had lived in the house less than a month, but already Nixon had memorized the places to avoid. The squeak in the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining area was a dead giveaway that he was home, along with the loose floorboards on the stairs.

  Standing in the hall, electing to go inside his room, Nixon strained his ears. Opening up his senses for claws on tile, the fast labored breaths he had come to associate with his father’s animal form, he listened, but he heard nothing but the ticking of the alarm clock on his nightstand.

  Nixon looked at the handmade quilt on his bed and shivered. It was the only thing he had left of his mother. She had paid special attention to each patch, making sure it was colors and patterns that reflected his personality. His favorite square was the one with the baseball mitt and bat in the center, trimmed in the same red thread she used to stitch his name in the upper right hand corner. Each one of those stitches she had sewn with love.

  The walk home from school in the cold drizzling rain had left him chilled to the bone, and he wanted nothing more than to lie under the quilt in search of his mother’s warmth. God, he missed her comforting arms after a long day at school. Anger rumbled through him. She was gone. She had left him to deal with his father’s abuse…alone.

  Taking a deep breath, Nixon crossed the threshold to his room. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief, figuring his father had passed out on the couch. Good, he could sleep and regain his strength before he reaped the consequences of Mrs. Jones’s phone call. The sad part was Nixon actually liked science. He liked learning about different rocks and minerals, plants and outer space. One of his most favorite projects was the Styrofoam solar system that hung above his bed.

  What he didn’t like was dissecting things. It was hard on an ani-shift child attending a public school when it came to tearing apart a baby pig. His father didn’t understand, because he didn’t listen. One of Nixon’s best friends was a pig, but his father probably didn’t know that either. And then it came, the expected blow to the shoulder. He should have known.

  One of his father’s favorite places to hide was behind the door. This time the beating was over the D in science, but everyday his father found new reasons to punish him. At one time his father had been a normal dad. But things had changed. He was no longer the same man.

  Nixon didn’t want to remember

  Startled and disoriented he opened his eyes. For a moment he was nine-years-old again lying in a dark room listening for sounds of his father. Even now when he realized it was just a dream he couldn’t stop the foreboding that his father was close by. Closing his eyes, Nixon found no relief.

  For Nixon, there was no escape.

  Groaning, he turned over on his back and draped his arm across his eyes. He remembered his father’s smell—that musky animal scent mixed with fish and Old Spice aftershave, and he hated it. He started to dream of him again and this time when his father changed into the badger, he had red glowing eyes. He looked like some kind of demon instead of the father he remembered.

  Swiftly sitting up, Nixon listened over his fear induced breathing. There was a noise, he was positive of that. There was someone else in the room with him. Well practiced in the art of defensive posture, Nixon quickly rolled off the bed, dropped down to the carpet, instinctively putting his hands in front of his face. This way, he could either make a fist or allow his flattened palms to act as a cushion between his face and his opponent’s blow.

  However, one quick glance through spread fingers told him he wasn’t warding off his father’s fist nor was he in the heart of a brawl; instead he was home in his room. Changing his eyes to that of an owl, Nixon saw that it was only Asher. He sat on the desk next to the bed, his lips curling upward in a devilish smirk.

  Leaning over, Asher switched on the nightstand lamp. “Dreaming are we…Nixon?”

  Nixon didn’t like the pause before his name, as though there was a hidden meaning tucked neatly somewhere within Asher’s words, but then again, when wasn’t there? He pulled himself up onto the bed again and rotated the clock around so that he could see the time.

  “I guess I blew off the Pillar Council meeting.”

  “It’s not that I blame you since I despise them myself.” Asher extended his arms and stretched. He was trying to intimidate him, this much Nixon knew. The guy was one tall lean fighting machine, and he typically wanted Nixon to take notice of that. “But since you made me look like an idiot in front of Linn,” he said, twisting from side to side until his back popped, “I believe you and I need some time on the mat. I’m learning some new Aikido moves and I could use a sparring partner, one that might need a few lessons.”

  “I’m not gonna beg to get out of it Asher, besides I enjoy every opportunity I get to throw you around.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Asher’s smirk quickly faded. “Ten years of putting up with your defiance is getting rather annoying. I wonder what would happen if I decided to take the keys to your new car. What would you do then hotshot?”

  “Be my guest and while you’re at it drop it off at the body shop. The garage door decided to jump in my way when I was parking. By the way, you might want to do something about that icy patch on the drive.”

  Asher muttered something under his breath and exhaled heavily. Nixon noticed it, the scent of mints drifting his way and knew that Asher had a tendency to consume a whole tin of them whenever he was nervous or really angry, and at this point in time he smelled pretty minty.

  Nixon knew he was treading on dangerous g
round since Asher was a master of practically every form of martial arts there was. He made it his daily regiment to spend hours in both physical and mental erudition. Asher never stopped learning or practicing ever, but then that never stopped Nixon.

  “What will it take boy, me putting you in your place before you learn to respect authority?”

  “Authority has to be worthy of respect first,” Nixon dared. Asher shot a set of angry red eyes his way. No matter how disturbing they were, especially after his dream, Nixon made a special point to show that Asher’s eyes didn’t bother him.

  “If you want the car back the keys are on the dresser. Take them and go so I can get some sleep.” Nixon noticed Kennedy in the doorway and closed his eyes. He had figured the little snitch would go squealing to her master when he saw her sitting on the stairs. Asher hopped off the desk and crossing the room snatched the keys off the dresser.

  “Oh come on Asher.” Nixon slapped the mattress top. He hadn’t really expected him to call his bluff. “You don’t even drive. What are you going to do with a car?”

  “Sell it.” Asher deposited the keys into his pocket on his way out the door.

  “You don’t always have to do what he says,” Nixon told Kennedy once Asher had left. “It’s not like he really cared about the meeting.”

  “The meeting was cancelled. It was ten years ago that Grant died.” She crossed to the window. “He went out there again looking for him like he does every year since.”

  “Oh, I see. In other words he went looking for Grant’s ghost again. Man he really has lost his mind.”

  “Nixon,” Kennedy said. “Asher won’t leave Brokenridge. He won’t shift either because he thinks it drains his magic.”

  “Asher’s magic is his shield. He thinks it will protect him from the Raven but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I know what Asher believes,” she turned her brilliant green eyes on him. “Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”

  “Actually at the moment all I care about is getting some sleep.” Nixon yawned and reaching behind him, fluffed his pillow. “But, since it looks like you’re planning on hanging around, you wanna tell me what’s up?”

  “I’m worried Nixon, some real crazy things are going on.” She had his full attention now. “Someone broke into Asher’s office and hit him on the head. I found him lying on the floor knocked out cold this morning.”

  Disbelievingly, Nixon shook his head. “That’s just crazy. He’s a paranoid obsessive compulsive mental nut case who changes his security codes daily, and there’s enough magic circling this house to zap the first person who tried to get in without his consent. How could you possibly expect me to believe that?”

  Kennedy faced him. “It is true. I felt the lump on his head. He was knocked out cold!” she repeated with emphasis. “I just don’t get it. I do everything for him and he doesn’t even call me by my name. To him, I’m girl while you treat him with disdain and…” she trailed off when she noticed his smiling face.

  He leaned back against his pillow as her eyes narrowed in thought. “I can’t believe it, you vain manipulative little snot,” he accused. “You pretend to care for him but truth is all you want from Asher is a ticket to spring break freedom.”

  Kennedy sighed, her thoughtful expression turning somber as she stared out his bedroom window. “You’re just like him, cold and selfish but you’re wrong Nixon. I do care.”

  “Fine, look if you don’t have a reason to be in my room I can give you one or,” he quickly added when she glared at him, “Since I get the feeling you do, you can just tell me what’s wrong?”

  Folding her arms over her chest, Kennedy tapped a few angry beats with her sneakered foot before she focused her attention back on him. “Ari didn’t come home last night and Asher senses something’s wrong. He wants us to go look for him. That’s what’s wrong.”

  Nixon shrugged, “So what, he’s probably telling Trisha good morning about now.”

  “He’s not at the Plaza or the office.”

  “Wait,” Nixon sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed, “are you telling me that Ari missed the Pillar Council meeting?”

  “Nixon wake up and smell the coffee. I just told you it was cancelled.”

  “Yeah, but Ari wouldn’t have known that. Did anyone call him?”

  “Linn did. She said Ari was on his way home to attend the meeting.”

  “See, so he wouldn’t have known the meeting was cancelled.” When Kennedy didn’t get his meaning, he rolled his eyes at her. “Asher mentioned yesterday that his cell was missing, so I used the payphone at the bar to call the house, but the house phones were dead. Ari wouldn’t have been able to reach anyone, unless Linn called him back herself to let him know the meeting was cancelled.”

  “She said she tried to call him last night to complain about Asher but he didn’t pick up, and if you were using the bar phone, does that mean your cellphone’s missing too?”

  He gave her a nod. “What about yours?”

  Kennedy slapped her hands at her sides. “I put it on my dresser and now it’s gone and it was a gift too.”

  “What makes you think that Ari didn’t go home with someone?” he asked. Nixon knew though. Ari had been worried about certain matters pertaining to the Union, and he would have done everything within his power to get to that meeting, even if it meant risking the weather to get there.

  Looking out the window, Nixon noticed to his misfortune, the sun was up revealing the truth of the storm. Thick layers of snow blanketed the ground and weighed down the pine boughs that bordered the woods. The service lane that led back to the lake was completely concealed and he knew that the roads couldn’t be much better.

  “You know I really am tired,” he yawned. Kennedy’s head snapped sideways and her glare expressed her disgust. “But neither of us will have a moments peace until we know for sure that Ari’s not out there somewhere. I got back all right but not without problems.”

  “That actually gives me some morsel of hope.”

  “Well don’t give me too much credit I really did wreck the car into the garage, and I didn’t exactly wait for the gate to open either.”

  Nixon moved to the window and lifted it. The wintry air that rushed in made him shiver. It blew the novel he had been reading off the nightstand, and his lamp toppled over sideways. Kennedy righted it and bent over to pick up the book. He cringed when her eyes widened in amazement, catching sight of the title. He guessed he wasn’t the Gone with the Wind type.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She sat the book on the bed, looking back and forth between him and the outdoors. Nixon smiled his answer. Realizing his intentions, Kennedy started to swing her head radically back and forth.

  “We can take my car Nixon. I think that was more what Asher had in mind.”

  “That little toy Cooper wouldn’t make it out of the drive in this.” He removed the items off his desk, a huge calendar which he never used, obviously, or he would have remembered the meeting, a pencil sharpener and the lamp, and tossed them on the bed.

  “But you can’t exactly fly in this storm either and you’ve been drinking. How do you know you can even shift?” Kennedy went to the window and tried to lower it, but Nixon gently pushed her aside. “Come on Nixon, have some sense in your head for once in your life. You can’t fly. I…I won’t let you.”

  Nixon winked at her. “Just watch me babe.”

  Despite the fact he was a fowler he still possessed an inborn form which was the Peregrine falcon. Kennedy had seen it many times. What about a gull? Nah, that was too unassuming when an eagle would impress her so much more, except they didn't fly well in storms. Sparrows were good at buffeting the harsher winds, but what was the point of being a fowler if he couldn't show off his business.

  Sitting on the desk, Nixon shifted into an eagle and launched out the window into the air, changing into a sparrow only once he was out of sight. Behind him Kennedy shouted for him to
come back.

  “Nixon darn you, we’re supposed to go together!”

  Chapter Five

  Discovery

  Snowflakes blasted Nixon in the face as he frantically flapped his wings against the fierce winds. Funny, he thought. He only had a few drinks but his smaller form definitely struggled with the adverse effects. His tiny heart pattered madly and he was having a hard time judging the distance between tree branches. He nearly missed one that could have easily pierced his heart.

  The blustery weather was far more forceful than Nixon had anticipated so he shifted into a falcon. With more strength he was able to rise quickly to find the airstream.

  Spreading his wings and tail feathers he steadied himself slowly and began to allow his body to drift downward, gliding in big circular patterns. During this time he used his superior eyesight to scan the roads below searching for Ari’s silver Nissan GT-R. When he had covered a fair amount of ground, he rose up and started the process all over again. On his second sweep his eyes caught movement.

  Closing his wings, Nixon plummeted to the ground, his streamline body acting as a mini-torpedo. As he passed over the tiger’s backside he grabbed fur with his right talon. The tiger’s mouth opened in a loud roar of warning and sunlight flashed off two large canines. In ani-shift form, unlike pale Linn, Kennedy was an orange Bengal tiger and she was beautiful. Nixon banked upward to put himself out of the reach of an angry paw, and he caught a glimpse of glistening metal.

  Again he began a descent. This time he allowed the air to cushion his landing in the center of the snow laden road. Shifting back was a shock once Nixon realized he had failed to think about grabbing a coat, and the brutal wind was playing havoc with his thin tee-shirt. He had to move quickly and not just for his sake. Ari’s car lay in a ditch at the side of the road, and the windshield was completely covered in snow. Apparently it had been there awhile.

  Nixon heard the growl first before he spun around and felt the power of the tiger as it pounced on top of him. Even though the ground was covered with snow, it came hard underneath him. Grabbing fur, Nixon pushed the tigers fangs back away from his face. She never meant him any true harm, but either way, a full-grown tiger on top of him was pretty frightening.